All The Kings Men {Peaky Blinders} (Completed)

Prologue

The rain was spilling from the skies, outside of the mines, where David Cotswold hurriedly changed from his work uniform to his regular clothes. He tilted his hat, waving a curt goodbye to his boss, before making his way home. It was just another night in Birmingham. And Mr. Cotswold had no desire to remain on the outskirts of the city.

He hurried home, ignoring the spying eyes from the back-alleys. Yet something was off. The front door was open, but there was no lights on inside the house. David pulled a small handgun from his coat pocket, cocked it, he was ready for anything. As he entered the small house, no sound could be heard over the storm brewing above him. He creaked up the stairs, swearing under his breath. His only hope was that the intruders had left.

David nudged the master bedroom door open, and dropped his gun. A lone bullet shot out, tearing into the wall, but the noise held nothing as the balding man dropped to his knees as he cried. His wife of seven years, Mary Evergreen Cotswold, laid dead on the floor. The crimson blood was black under the shadowed moon, drowning every emotion but desperation from David. His cries rivalled only to their infant daughter in the next room over. He stared at the blood soaking into his hands, and prayed to God that his daughter was unharmed.

David gathered himself, and went to her. With tears in his eyes, he picked her up, and held her close to his chest as the storm grew. He kissed her head, softer then the snow that would follow in suit of the rain, before setting her back to the cot.

After he turned from her, a blade tore into his face, gauging his eyelid, blinding him with blood and pain. The trademark move of a Peaky Blinder was the last thing he would ever see. His suffering was short lived, because a bullet tore through his skull. His infant daughter wailed, unable to see, but heard everything that went on. The killer, a stubby man that smelt of whisky, glanced at her. He reached into the cot, touching the baby's cheek like he had his own sons. He grunted and lit a cigarette before disappearing into the night as the police arrived on the scene.

-

It was almost five years later, and none other than Polly Grey stood lonely in front of the Birmingham orphanage. Her long hair was flat under the pale hat, and the harsh wind was blocked out by her coat. She entered the main hall, where the sister in charge, Sister Mary, was waiting for her.

"I'm afraid, Mrs. Grey, that we do not play host to your children. After all, the government has their fingers sticky from too many pies." Sister Mary glanced at the young woman. Polly nodded, following her into the office. She stopped momentarily as the sharp whack of a cane sounded from a side room.

"What was that?" Polly asked even though she knew the answer. She saw Sister Mary wince slightly.

"The older sisters still use the cane. I don't believe in such vile punishments for children. Alas, there is no changing Sister Jude's ways." Sister Mary had stopped walking as she spoke.

Polly was left without thoughts for a second, before the door was pulled open, and a young girl, barely 5 or 6 stumbled out. Her dark brown hair was a direct match to her eyes, a faint waft of the sea trailed behind her. And even though she had been punished, there was still a glint of something more in her eyes. Polly had seen that glint before. In her brother, in her husband, in both their respective children and their own father. "Who is that?"

Sister Mary watched the girl try to walk off, as bravely as she could, humming a tune that sounded as old as the ocean. "That is Lily Cotswold. She was brought here after her parents were killed in their own home." Sister Mary sighed as if the tragedy could never have been avoided.

"Cotswold? The family's whose father-"

"Whose father came from those folk that live in boats? Yes." Again, Sister Mary spoke as if it was unavoidable. As if that little girl had meant to be here, as if she was born into it. "Nobody has ever even tried to adopt her. Poor thing."

Polly stood in the hallway, watching the impish child skip into the darkness, the tune she was humming still ringing in Polly's ears. "I would like to meet her."